


Polarized

by urusai_lilania



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Boredom, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Cell Phones, Cigarettes, Dullahan - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Glasses, Ikebukuro, Lost items, M/M, Motorcycles, Parkour, Stray Dogs, Sushi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urusai_lilania/pseuds/urusai_lilania
Summary: It's a boring night, and Izaya's failing eyesight is making work a pain in the ass. And, wouldn't you know it, he's out of contacts--and his glasses are utterly useless. Naturally. Shinra was kind enough to offer to help, if only Izaya would return to Ikebukuro. Against his better judgement (as if he really had any), Izaya goes--and almost immediately reunites with Shizuo.





	1. Poor Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is another of my writings that were originally posted to my now-dead livejournal. It's a WIP, and enjoyable, so I might as well continue it :)

Stacks of papers. Wires. A waste bin filled with discarded snacks, empty cups. Pens, highlighters. Computer, lamp, clock, a stolen dispatch receiver. There was room for decorum, but none existed. Not in the usual, humanized sense of the word, anyway.

Izaya Orihara tapped his feet against the edge of his desk; he was currently crunched up in his seat, trying to put together something from a whole lot of nothing. It was easy enough; if he couldn’t do it he’d have been known for something _other_ than being an information broker—someone like him couldn’t draw breath and not be known at all. Not where it counted.

He hadn’t slept now in over a day, but once he reported his findings on this particular job he could sleep all he wanted, to death even, if he so desired. If only the damned paperwork had a zoom option. The last thing he wanted to do was pick up a magnifying glass and scan all this mess…

Rubbing at his eyes in annoyance, Izaya sighed. Deft fingers flicked a drawer beneath the counter open, withdrawing a pair of slender glasses. With only a slight hesitation, the raven-haired man tossed them onto his face and returned to studying the mass of text before his eyes. He wanted to curse that the view had improved only slightly, but chose to save the word for the next time he came face to face with that damned brute over in Ikebukuro.

Ikebukuro…

Tossing the papers down and reaching for his phone, Izaya called up the entry and waited. Either the idiot would pick up, or he wouldn’t, but Izaya preferred to do this sort of thing through him, if possible. What were friends for, after all?

The call didn’t connect until it was nearly thrown into voicemail. Not wasting a moment, Izaya inhaled and started, “Ah, Shinra! What a pleasant surprise.” Slender fingers found the pen he had been using, bringing it to his lips as he waited.

“I think that only works if I were calling you, Izaya.”

“Hahaha, true. But it’s surprising enough you picked up. Not too busy?” Silently Izaya let his fingers toss up the next bit of information onto his computer to see if he could at least finish this whole mess before the conversation was over.

Sounds of shifting on the other end; the call had probably left the brown-haired man confused. “Eh, no one’s come in with an emergency, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Ah, not so much, Shinra, but thank you. I was wondering if you could maybe do something about my contacts?”

Sighing was heard from the other end of the line. “You know, Izaya, that isn’t my league.”

“Humor me. I apparently ran out of contacts here and these glasses aren’t doing much for me.”

“Ah, I see what you mean, _those_ contacts.” The pause was brief, but the doctor’s demeanor had lightened greatly as he continued speaking. “But I thought Izaya looked quite becoming in them, those thin wire-frames. You sure you don’t want to join me? I don’t want to be the only one with glasses, it’s so lonely sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, Shinra, but my heart lies elsewhere.” That hellish man had glasses, if sunglasses counted. The fool wasn’t alone in this world, he could cope. If Shinra got anywhere near desperate, Izaya could always point him towards Mikado Ryuugamine’s little friend… Ah, that could prove amusing. Celty wouldn’t like that much.

“Oh? I’m not a human now?”

“…My prescription?” Izaya tried once more. He didn’t like it when Shinra steered their conversations around; when he was bored, it was fine, but he was busy right now and if it kept up Shinra was bound to either hang up without answering him or start blabbing on about how perfectly cute Celty was or that he had recently acquired a heart from a patient if Izaya still needed one… Shinra Kishitani gave quack doctors a run for their money.

“Maybe if you got away from that computer of yours, your eyes wouldn’t be so bad, Izaya.”

“Neh, Shinra, is that an invitation or your professional opinion?”

“Hm. You know I think people would maybe bother to visit you if you didn’t change your address so often. Haven’t you already lived in every available apartment in Shinjuku?”

“I rather _liked_ that last one, thank you. Had only lived in it a week and a natural disaster tore it to shreds. I have the worst luck with that sort of thing, it seems. Ah, but Shinra was inquiring about vacancies, not condemned rubble. The gutters are still available; you looking for a new lease?”

“Haha. Hardly. I’m happy here with my little wife and all.”

A faint smirk finally manifested on Izaya’s lips, kicking off from the desk and spinning around in his chair to face his laptop. The chatroom was still empty. Glancing up at his ceiling with its numerous pencil/pen/knife wounds, Izaya eyed the phone at his ear and scoffed. “Celty’s not home, is she?”

“Ah, haha… no, she isn’t.” Ah, the disappointment was almost palpable.

The crimson-eyed man smiled in a way that was anything but warm. “Of course she isn’t,” Izaya sang back. “You haven’t hung up on me yet, not to mention Celty wouldn’t dare let you call her your wife like that. Or is there another one there now?”

“It’s only been three days since you were here, Izaya,” came the underground doctor’s exasperated voice. “My feelings for Celty aren’t so fickle that—”

“Ah, yes, save that talk, Shinra, I know, I know,” Izaya interrupted, shaking his head.

“Why’d you go over there, anyway?”

Izaya frowned, casting a look to the window. Night, and only his lamp was on. That probably wasn’t helping. Flicking a remote beneath his desktop, Izaya nodded as the lights flared to life overhead. Glancing to the papers and then to the computer screen, Izaya sighed. Still no good. “Beg your pardon? I work, just like any human being.”

“No, I mean… why’d you ever even _go_? To Shinjuku.”

“…Work…” The conversation was being steered again. Izaya had an idea of where it was headed, but it would be unprecedented if that were the case. Shinra never bothered to ask these sorts of things to him before.

“I mean from the beginning.”

Izaya felt the pen he had been toying with in his lips threaten to burst between his teeth; irritably he flicked at it with a finger towards his waste bin before rummaging through a drawer for a new one. “It’s nice here, Shinra.”

“You always sound more alive when you’re here.”

Izaya remained silent, wondering what his old classmate was going to say next. Sometimes, Shinra adopted this annoying tactic of concern. Really, it was only curiosity or boredom… or maybe he enjoyed trying to push Izaya’s buttons. Maybe Shinra was that sort of devil; maybe this was precisely the reason why Celty was out on the road tonight.

“Izaya?”

“Ah, yeah, I’m here, Shinra. Was just searching for something.”

“Had you thought about moving back?”

“HAH!” Izaya nearly flipped his chair with the force of the outburst, his head thrown back with the sheer lunacy of the idea. “Do you know what that guy would _do_ to me? I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night with Shizu-chan always keeping me up like that.”

Silence. Izaya wondered if Shinra was done with his questions for now. Ultimately, the only person Shinra actually wanted to listen to was Celty, but in lieu of her absence Izaya had been used it seemed. “Well, I’m not an optometrist, Izaya, so this is really just my own personal opinion but… You need to get a new prescription. That one sounds like it isn’t helping anymore; in fact, if you continue to strain your eyes or wear corrective lenses that aren’t the right prescription, it can further damage your sight.”

“Ah, so it’s just one big circle-fuck. Hm. Then Shinra may be right…”

“Are you coming over tonight? I need enough time to put the call out, if you want some contacts right away.”

“Eeeeh… Sure. I’m done with this deal anyway,” Izaya muttered, half to himself, half into the receiver. He _wasn’t_ done with the job, but Shinra had made his point: Izaya could finish that just as easily in Ikebukuro, at least for the night. “I’ll give you a call before I drop in.”

~~~

Shizuo paced the streets for lack of anything else to do; he was irritable and something felt off and he couldn’t be bothered to think of _what_ for very long without the blood rushing to his ears. Scowling, the blonde brought a cigarette to his lips and lit it. It was his last for the week, as far as Tom’s gifts were concerned. He wondered if some useless flea wouldn’t appear next to a cigarette vending machine, that he couldn’t just bash the piece of shit in through the glass like beating a piñata… but that wasn’t the right way to do that. No, he could just punch the bastard to death and whatever loose cash fell off him, Shizuo could use to buy another pack of cigarettes.

If only the stinking flea would just drop cigarettes. But no, that’d require sticking his lips on that shit, and Shizuo didn’t like the insinuation one bit. It’d be like purposely torturing himself as a reward, what kind of stupidity was that? He just wanted a smoke, maybe a paycheck that let him eat something other than Cup Noodles for more than just the one night a week he spent at the Russian Sushi shop. Stopping on the sidewalk to stare at yet another large image of his brother plastered on a building, Shizuo took a stiff drag, hoping to make the thing last while still enjoying it. Kasuka… did his brother approve of his smoking? Of all the odd little gifts that the younger Heiwajima delivered, Shizuo couldn’t remember any of them including a single pack of cigarettes. Still… Kasuka never questioned anything Shizuo did, did he? So Shizuo shouldn’t question it either.

“Again with the warm brotherly love, Shizu-chan? You _do_ know that’s just a picture, right? Or are you just satisfied with images to get the heat up? That’s pretty base.”

Tension visibly rippled across Shizuo’s body; anyone walking past him practically heard the thunderclap resounding from his core and quickly scampered away into the night, far, far away from this simple street of Ikebukuro where Ragnarok may very well be taking place. Grinding his teeth together, Shizuo turned to see the other man, only to frown.

Izaya was watching him cautiously, both hands shoved deep within his pockets. But it wasn’t the same. Shizuo’s fingers began to twitch at his sides. “Izaya-kun…” he growled. “You’re less womanly than normal. What the hell is up with those glasses?”

“Ah,” Izaya breathed, cursing under his breath. He had forgotten to take off the blasted things. “A novelty,” he declared with an easy shrug.

“Tch. They suit you.”

The creep looked taken aback, blinking owlishly from behind the slim spectacles. “What, Shizu-chan? Didn’t know you had a thing for glasses.”

Lip curling, Shizuo jerked an arm out and let it find the nearest object—a crossing sign. Wrapping his aching digits around its post, the blond tilted his head. “Shut it, flea. Was just saying they bring out the stupid dick in you.”

“Waaaah? So mean, Shizu-chan! I think I’ll wear them more.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m already on my way!” Izaya shot back, suddenly turning tail and bolting. Cursing, Shizuo ripped the sign from the ground and chucked it headlong at the fleeing man. It overshot, smashing into a parked car as its intended target hopped over both, skidded awkwardly, and dashed off.

Even with the hectic exit, Shizuo could see where the man’s feet were taking him. He gave chase without a care; Celty had been upset earlier, which was probably Shinra’s fault. And now Izaya was headed for Shinra’s. Might as well be as good a time as any for a class reunion. And if Shinra was stupid enough to still behave like a moron about whatever happened earlier that day, Shizuo would beat some sense into him. Celty was not the sort of person you made doubt herself. The woman was proud, but confused—doubting herself so deeply could very well snuff her from their existence, if it weren’t for that one tiny detail.

If only the stupid little flea had had anything to do with it, it’d make things easier. All Shizuo would have to do is kill _him_ ; in Shinra’s case, he had to be far more restrained. The man couldn’t take a hit worth a shit.


	2. Stood Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya's returned to Ikebukuro, but his warm welcome was even more short-lived than expected! Shinra tries his best to entertain his late-night guest, but he's no Shizuo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allo-allo~ Still working on old material from my defunct LiveJournal, re-edited for upload here :) Cheers

What does the average passerby see as Izaya streaks through the crowd, laughing like a maniac, Shizuo pounding the pavement and bellowing behind the crazed sprinter, all manner of objects flying? Someone in high school had once said it was like a hyena and a rhino, or a cheetah and a lion. The two men were so phenomenally different, while still being made of the same fiber: danger. Right down to the core, they were dangerous. While Shizuo struck some instinctive chord within a person’s mind, pinging off confusing alarms, Izaya often appeared perfectly normal, stirring curiosity. Once known, however, it was understood without question: do not mess with either of these men, and, above all else, do _not_ step between them.

Shinra Kishitani had gone to school with both individuals, had actually _introduced_ the two to each other. Though the doctor knew full well that Izaya would have searched out the reactive blonde if left to his own devices that first day. Shinra just wanted to see for himself what would happen—and he wasn’t disappointed in the least. He still remembers smiling at the sight of the pair, Izaya’s knife drawn, Shizuo clutching at the bleeding gouge on his chest. And they had run off, the first of however many chases that they had and continue to have. With Izaya coming into town tonight while Shizuo was off-duty, he had no doubt that their paths would cross.

It was just a matter of if it happened before or after Izaya managed to get to Shinra’s apartment. He had already pulled the blinds, in the odd event that Izaya had to come through the window instead of any normal route. Even at the top of his building, as his apartment was; Izaya was well-known for free-running his way all over the city. Sighing and flopping heavily into a chair, Shinra picked up his pen and toyed with it. Not ten minutes later the door opened in a rush of air.

Izaya slammed his back into the entrance hall’s wall, laughing madly as he fumbled with his shoes. “Oh my, Shinraaa! You should have seen the idiot’s face, it was amazing!”

“It was? I thought you couldn’t see!” Shinra returned amiably, chuckling slightly. He didn’t have to go into the hall to see Izaya’s giddiness. The raven-haired man was practically brimming with electric excitement. Shinra wondered if Izaya realized only one other thing got him this riled up still after all this time. He had to, right? Izaya Orihara, the self-proclaimed lover of all-humans-except-Shizuo, suffered from a weird and twisted passion for humanity, just as he suffered from a weird and twisted passion for Shizuo Heiwajima. It was a thing best left at passion, Shinra decided. Some, like the otaku running around with Kadota, firmly fantasized that the two were entwined in a much more specific manner, while others could only see the violence that filled their muscles, their eyes. Passion could drive people to just about any end.

Celty was passionate, too. The Dullahan, his roommate, his “wife” as he had called her on the phone, was so filled with passion that she could quite probably burst from it. It concerned the doctor, this fascination with her head and its lost memories. Shinra had hoped it would fade over time, but as the years went by the flame only burned brighter. The fairy was kind, honest, and a hard-worker, but it all came back to her head. Shinra would try to wean her of it, but the headless woman would have none of it. So on nights like this when there was little work, she stormed off, riding off into the city lights with that black bike, gifting citizens and visitors with her image, the urban legend of the Black Rider.

Izaya sprung forth into view, glancing left and right with bright, pleased eyes behind the man’s seldom-used glasses. “Ah! Shinra! You’re so right, I can’t, and it was horrible, he was all one big ugly smear with gnashing teeth like that one time in my sleep, so scary!” he lilted, swaying and suddenly jerking around the corner of the wall in a strange waltz, stumbling lightly towards where the doctor sat.

“You didn’t close the door, I think,” Shinra pointed out, tilting his head and listening.

Waving his hand dismissively, Izaya threw himself into a chair, crossed his legs and beamed wickedly. “Shizu-chan won’t be long.” Shinra raised his eyebrows, smiling half-heartedly. The two together were volatile, to say the least. If Izaya was _this_ worked up, he couldn’t help but wonder just how frustrated Shizuo was…

But it had always been fun to watch, hadn’t it? Yes, from day one, Shinra had found these two together to be great fun, when most of their schoolmates were either too busy being terrified or stupid enough to get in the way. Sending one last message to Celty in an attempt to calm her, Shinra turned his full attention to his guest.

“Ah, Izaya… I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to do anything about your prescription tonight. The demand for underground optometrists is not so high, you see,” he apologized weakly. “Really, when it’s involving the eyes it’s usually just cosmetic surgery. If you stick around for the daylight, I’ll be able to get you looked at by an acquaintance who can give me the prescription and we can take it from there.”

“Oh? Then why didn’t you just call me?”

“…You were supposed to call _me_ , and you sounded like you needed out of the office anyway,” Shinra said indifferently. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to give you an excuse.”

Pouting awkwardly in his own seat, Izaya twisted his neck over the side to study the entranceway. “Mmnn… did he get caught on something? HA! Maybe he finally died…”

Shinra watched the steady progression of change in Izaya’s countenance. Inquisitive, mirthful, amusement… and then surely that train of thought must have kicked in, because the crooked smile on the man’s face wilted, the frown almost becoming a scowl before Izaya deadpanned, red eyes cutting to Shinra. The underground doctor smiled as apologetically as he could, considering who he was smiling at, turning his hands palm-up. Izaya scoffed, though who it was directed to Shinra didn’t bother to wonder. The man was more than just a little unstable, but Shinra had known him since their time in middle school and was more or less used to the broad range of Izaya’s fluid behaviors. It was probably why he was ultimately apathetic to most of the peculiar man’s issues—if Izaya himself wasn’t willing to induce a change, if he continued onwards like nothing was wrong, or that he was justified, well, he deserved everything that came his way. For every good, there would one day be a dozen bad.

Though, at this point Shinra wasn’t honestly sure if Izaya was aware of that fact anymore.

Glancing to his computer, the bespectacled man sighed inwardly. Celty didn’t plan on responding.

~~~

She had looked too upset to just keep running after the flea. Shizuo wasn’t as good as Shinra at reading the Dullahan, but the simple fact that she had plowed straight into him from around the corner was enough to be concerned. The Black Rider was normally very, _very_ good about not mowing people down—with her bike, anyway. Did she always drive that fast?

“Are you feeling okay?” Shizuo wondered, staring meaningfully at the woman. They were sitting on a nearby bench, the blonde deeply wishing for another cigarette, his last one crumpled and ruined somewhere. Did he lose it when he started running or when he was hit? Celty, distraught, was shaking visibly. Yet again she typed maniacally, wanting to know if Shizuo was okay, if she should take him to Shinra, or a more respectable place, or… Placing his hand on his friend’s PDA, her regular means of communication, Shizuo shook his head. “Are you feeling okay?” he repeated. The shaking paused, but then the empty helmet shook dramatically, vigorously. “Okay. I’ve got time,” he decided. Digging into his pocket for his pack, Shizuo pulled out the empty carton and sighed.

The helmet tilted; Celty cleared her previous message and instead asked, [I’m so sorry. Can I buy you a pack or two as compensation? Food? …?]

Smiling, Shizuo considered this. It would be less weight on the woman’s conscious if he accepted a payment, and he’d get his fix. “That’ll work. I really need a smoke.”

Calming down, Celty thought for about this for a moment before responding. [Shinra says that smoking could kill you.]

“Suppose that’s true,” the blond mused, shrugging. “What’d he do, anyway?”

[Eh?! What do you mean?]

“Only aliens and Shinra make you get this bad.” Chuckling, Shizuo shook his head. “You sure the guy _isn’t_ an alien? They love trying to examine people, you know. And he’s always recording everything—maybe he’s sending it off to his people. Surveillance.”

[Really?! Oh no…] A pause. [What do I do?? Who do I tell? How do you get a hold of Area 51?]

Laughing, Shizuo shook his head. “Celty, you can’t call Area 51. If it’s out there, they’d probably just ask him to work there.”

[Well it’s more reputable than what he does now.]

Shizuo chuckled. You could tell how long the pair had lived together by these sorts of retorts—it was joking, affectionate, and said out of concern. “Hardly. He wouldn’t go anyway, you know. You’d stay here.”

[I suppose…]

Silence reigned between the two, Celty lost in her myriad of thoughts. Shizuo glanced across the street; that dog was back.

“Oi…” he muttered, frowning. “What’s that?”

~~~

“Shiii- _iiit_!” Izaya shouted, spinning around where he stood and collapsing bodily onto the floor. Mentally he ignored the pain that resurfaced in his side. He had taken a damn good hit this time, taking the majority of the blow in his side when his body slammed into the wall—and Shizuo had only _just_ knocked him, but that didn’t make it any less nasty. Had the strike thrown him into the alley, Izaya probably wouldn’t have made it to Shinra’s. …Not anytime soon, at any rate. The beast was out for blood tonight.

He could hear Shinra playing with a pen, could hear the various electronics in the house whirring. What he did _not_ hear was that loud growling voice, heavy feet, panted breath and a pounding heart that beat so hectically it might as well have been rain on a tin roof… not even the sound of inanimate objects being ripped up and crunched, smashing into more things.

Relatively, it was quiet. Much quieter than he had expected. Throwing an arm over his face, Izaya sighed. “So you’ll be sure to be available tomorrow?” Shinra asked, his voice heavy with boredom.

“Mn, yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t going to piss him off and have to leave?”

Izaya’s eye twitched, but he swallowed the emotion and replaced it with flippancy. “…Ehhh…?”

“You’re bored, you always piss him off more when you’re like this.”

Izaya smirked beneath his arm. Ah, so that’s it then. He pissed off Shinra too; well, he needed to return the favor didn’t he? And he only had to mention _that thing_ … “Then he shouldn’t be so easily pissed off.”

“Didn’t you have work?” Shinra’s eyes narrowed as he let his eyes fall to the floor. If that man thought he was going to just sit around here waiting on Shizuo when Celty could come home at any minute…

Grinning broadly, the raven-haired man waved his other hand dismissively. “I did it on the way.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Izaya finally glanced to the other male, shifting his arm so that he could see. “You kicking me out, Shinra?”

Sighing, the brunette put the pen down, twisting in his chair to stare directly at his old classmate. “I don’t want him coming in here and wrecking the place.”

“If he hasn’t come yet he isn’t coming.” In general, this was true enough… and there were only so many things that kept Shizuo from chasing Izaya, wasn’t here? An act of “God”, for one…

“I need to talk with Celty.”

Smirking, Izaya sat up, crossing his legs and throwing his hands in his lap. “Ya know, Shinra, you talk too much.”

“ _Whaaat_?” Shinra blinked hard, sitting up straight. “What’s that mean?”

“If you’re going to kick me out just say what you wanna say. ‘Izaya, kindly get-the-fuck-out so I can make up with my lady friend and maybe get lucky.’ Which won’t happen, because she’s previously engaged with herself,” Izaya explained, mimicking Shinra’s tone and shaking his head.

“Okay, _now_ you can get out,” Shinra grumbled darkly, nodding his head towards the door.

The red-eyed man was up on his feet in an instant, swaying to some sort of disorienting beat as he wandered over to the entranceway. Shinra waited quietly; it wouldn’t do his case any good to give Izaya an excuse to turn around and say that Shinra _wanted_ him here.

“See you tomorrow, Shinraaa!” the man called, dashing out the door.

“You owe me a house-warming gift now!” Shinra shouted back, shaking his head. When it became clear that Izaya had actually left, the man let out a sigh of relief. “Finally,” he breathed, resting his chin in his palm. “What was with that? If anyone talks too much it’s _him_!” Outside, it must have begun to rain—Shinra could hear the pleasant sound, could smell it… Cutting his eyes towards the door, the exasperated doctor groaned. “Hey! He left it open again!”

~~~

The straggly dog slowly meandered across the park. Despite his mangled appearance, he had a fairly forgiving life. The people of Ikebukuro went on about their daily lives, the buzz of the night lights and talk and city’s pulse still going strong as the mongrel slowly made his way about town. Some people shooed him, chased him, threw things at him, others ignored his presence or looked the other way. But some people would pet him, give him a small morsel, talk to him. His little route took him past as many of them as he could, and any good spots for trash or resting breaks. Having lasted this long as a resident of Ikebukuro, he wasn’t bad off at all.

That violent blonde man was more prone to leave him be, later finding him and giving him a small treat if he had anything. Once, the subdued mutt had been nearly crushed in a loud and confusing squabble, and the blonde man had gone and caught the enormous metal thing before it hit. The blonde had also _thrown_ it in the first place (and threw it again once it was caught)—but it was at that man that moved like a cat, not him. The dog waited for them to be done before wandering away as always.

He had met with that man again tonight, with the woman in black. Had spotted him earlier too, with the quick one, the catlike man; it was then that the meandering canine had found his treasure. But just now when the blonde spotted him across the street, the man walked over to the dog and took a look at his treasure. Cautiously dropping his treasure into the man’s hand when it was demanded, the dog wriggled—just enough, not expectantly. Humans did this all the time with one another, trading things. Sometimes the dog got lucky and one would trade with _him_. The man made a strange face and stood quickly, exchanged gestures with the lady, who gave him something… then suddenly took the special treasure and ran off, leaving the woman to cautiously pat the confused dog on his head.

After several minutes, the man came back. The dog stepped back slightly; a strange energy emanated from the man, and he would be happy to claim his treat and leave now, thank you. What a treat it was, too: the man split some sushi between the three.

As the dog left their company, he changed course to find a nice place to lie down and enjoy his full stomach as the rain began. He made a good trade today; the man was excited, breathing fire and gave him part of his own fresh food for the strange little bleeping thing.

He wondered what he could get for the other half of his find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interested in checking out my original writing or spying on my two furbabbies antics? You can find us [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!


	3. Labor of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya's luck is running out, and of course that's the perfect time to run into Shizuo once more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be reading and rewatching Durarara!! soon to motivate me to write these more! Hope this finds everyone at the start of a very good new year :)

Curiously, Shizuo glanced down to the phone in his hand. He and Celty Sturluson had parted ways, her mind seemingly a little less chaotic, him a lot calmer, a smoke in his lips and a local mutt’s find in his hands. He had something here, didn’t he? The list of contacts was stupidly long; the names seemed totally random. Shizuo recognized a few of the numbers, but their labels didn’t make much sense to him. “Just means it belongs to an idiot,” he mused allowed, inhaling his cigarette. He had a strong suspicion, but he wanted to be sure. Smirking and baring his teeth, Shizuo found the most recent call made and punched it through.

“Oi, Izaya, I said _tomorrow_. Tomorrow. Means I’m done for the night.”

Shinra hung up.

Grinning dangerously, Shizuo eyed the thing in his hands. He had Izaya Orihara’s phone.

~~~

This was not how Izaya had thought he’d be spending this night. Originally, he had been idling away the evening at his own office, working on boring little things that needed to be done. He’d considered just cancelling the job, but that never did good for one’s image, and Izaya’s image was used mainly for one thing and one thing only—to give him better access to those interesting beings known as humans. So he had intended to get his work done… but his _eyes_. This was all because of his damned eyes acting up again. He’d tried to look into corrective surgery before, but until his eyes stopped changing he wasn’t eligible.

…Izaya _had_ tried to talk to Shinra on that matter; the underground doctor simply stated chapter and verse on why a person had to wait for the change to stop progressing and what would happen to Izaya should he try to get someone _else_ to give him the surgery anyway, and the information broker stopped asking.

Shinra could sometimes reveal that part of him in such a perfectly dangerous way without even involving himself. Also, you never argued with the man you were asking to stick a knife/laser/needle in you—not that Izaya made a habit of bothering to remember this, not with Shinra Kishitani. Shinra had a disarming quality that, while an everyday person could realize there was something off with the young man, one didn’t realize just how badly they were right. Because everything Shinra did, he did it with intent. So if the man told Izaya fifty million things that could go wrong, it wasn’t friendly conjecture, it was a _consideration_. Shinra was good at what he did.

And what he did most of all, and with great skill, was be shifty.

So, corrective surgery not being an option, Izaya stuck to his contacts and glasses; most of the time he stuck to the contacts because glasses were just not conducive to his daily routines outside of the office.

Like now.

Izaya mused that had it not been for his glasses, he would not have been in this situation—or this _place_ , at any rate. He had come to Ikebukuro tonight to request a favor from Shinra, only to find himself staring at this beast of a man for the second time. Even with the annoying blurred edges, Izaya could make out Shizuo’s teeth just fine.

Carefully he assessed the situation. He hadn’t expected to run into the bastard now; Izaya had wrongly assumed that Shizuo had gone back to his home—it was late, wasn’t it? Assumptions were not things Izaya should be making; this man seemed to keep fucking him over with those… His lips twitched slightly as he offered a “friendly” wave to the blonde. “Ah, Shinra was disappointed you didn’t show up, Shizu-chan.”

Scoffing, Shizuo took his cigarette from his mouth and stared at the other man. “He’s got other things to worry about than you crawling around.”

“And you don’t, I see,” the red-eyed male muttered, tilting his head and wondering how long before the other man was done with words. “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t crawling. I had a nice jaunt and just sort of… laid about,” Izaya surmised, waving his hand indifferently. “We needed to catch up.”

“You drunk?”

“A…wah?” Izaya couldn’t find his tongue for a second. The comment was utterly out of place.

“You show up in glasses, you stumble around like a retard, and you don’t even notice _this_ ,” Shizuo pointed out indifferently, digging into his pocket to reveal Izaya’s phone. “Thought you needed this thing to live,” he added, the growl in his voice subdued. This was a whole new game tonight.

“Ah, how kind of you to recover that for me. I suppose you’ll want a finder’s fee then,” Izaya muttered darkly, reaching into his pocket, playing further into this game. Shizuo watched as the crimson eyes narrowed, the hand settling inside his pocket instead of withdrawing. The blonde had expected that.

“Wallet too, huh?” Shizuo asked, sending a feral grin towards the other man. Flicking his fingers, he revealed the dark leather wallet hiding behind the phone with a sneer.

Frowning slightly as he stared at the blonde, Izaya paused, his eyes quickly glancing around them. Shizuo bared his teeth; Izaya was accessing the situation again. Finally, the lithe male sighed, removing his hand from his pocket—empty. Instead, he dug into his jacket, withdrawing his knife. “I know Shizu-chan loves me, but you’re starting to look like a stalker… I think we should talk about this.”

Shizuo’s eyes alighted behind his sunglasses; without another thought on the matter he shoved both the phone and the wallet back into his pocket. “Talk my fucking _ass_. I’m gonna floor you.”

“Come on, Shizu-chan… I don’t feel like playing right now…” Izaya said weakly, a shoulder sagging, his knife drawn but still held in an unthreatening manner. “I just want—”

“I don’t care what you want.”

And that was that—Izaya’s grip on his knife shifted, his feet jerking; was the man was going to bolt? Even with Shizuo in possession of his things? Shizuo dashed forward, lugging the trash receptacle he had next to him for the occasion, finding Izaya slid forward, crouched beneath him; the quick bastard slashed upward before spinning around the blonde’s side and to the man’s back—the receptacle flying in the opposite direction. A stray hand had appeared at Shizuo’s hip, but the man had swatted at it in annoyance and spun around hard to face the bastard.

Okay, so the flea wasn’t going to run, he was just after his belongings.

There was something dissatisfying in how Izaya moved; it wasn’t the usual sort of maneuvers. Sure, the man wasn’t running away since Shizuo had his things, but there was something… _off_.

Drunk…? No, Izaya had dealings with all sorts of people and could hold his liquor—or at the very least knew how to drink sensibly. And if Shinra was actually getting _drunk_ instead of worrying about Celty, then that was an all new low for the doctor. But no scent of alcohol hung in the air as the two moved…

Whatever. The flea was the flea—there was no telling what his problem was, and Shizuo didn’t care. To emphasize this point, the blonde hefted the usual vending machine at the damned prick. The large metal thing groaned at the upheaval, the contents clattering and shifting as it flew with fair velocity towards its target.

Izaya spun to move out of the way; he dodged the attack but stumbled, his feet moving clumsier than usual. Or was he just slower? The next attack _did_ catch the red-eyed man, throwing him against the wall. Normally Izaya would have been on his feet almost instantly—but a full two minutes went by with no movement.

Shizuo stood his ground, panting, a low growl escaping his lips. “The fuck is this shit? Get up, flea.”

But the collapsed male made no move; blood was visible, but Izaya’s side visibly rose and fell as he lay there, crumpled in a heap where he fell. So Shizuo hadn’t finally wasted the prick—he was just… unconscious.

Well that was just _rich_.

~~~

“So I was saying to him, I was saying how was I supposed to know…” Masaomi’s voice droned on excitedly as he and his friend walked, the golden-haired male absorbed in an earlier attempt at wooing that had been cut miserably short by the girl’s boyfriend suddenly appearing. Mikado was listening, but he was more interested in looking at the strangers they passed briskly.

He knew Masaomi Kida was just trying to get to their destination now that he was done with his goofing off—his friend had a natural worry about Mikado in this city. It was well-founded—Mikado Ryuugamine had an attraction to the unusual, the dangerous, so that even if the boy did not notice himself gravitating towards it, it gravitated towards _him_. Not that the boy would complain about it in the least.

Though currently it wasn’t so much gravitating towards the blue-eyed student as it was grumbling loudly and stomping farther away by route of an alley…

Mikado blinked, turning to watch Shizuo Heiwajima stalk off with Izaya Orihara thrown over his shoulder—a sight that most people would have quickly turned from and erased from their mind. “Eh?” he wondered aloud. “Heiwajima-san doesn’t look pleased…”

Finding what his friend was staring at, Masaomi swallowed thickly, his friendly babble quieting. “Ah, you know, maybe we shouldn’t be looking… It’s best not to know, you know? Or people come after you in the middle of the night.”

“But Orihara-san…” Mikado continued, his gaze finding the other male’s. “It looks like something’s wrong.”

“ _I’ll_ say something’s wrong!” Masaomi agreed, throwing an arm over the blue-eyed boy’s shoulders and spinning on his heel. “We’re supposed to be out looking for girls!”

“No, we were supposed to be going to the arcade,” Mikado reminded his friend complacently. “But then Kida-kun got distracted stalking those girls at the park and now we’re way over here.”

“Hey, don’t say it like that, you’ll make them get the wrong impression again,” Masaomi warned, tugging the other boy closer roughly. “I didn’t leave you behind, right?”

“But stalking is stalking,” Mikado responded, blinking owlishly. “…And only because I have my own legs.”

“You won’t have any left by the time I’m done!” Masaomi crowed loudly. Mikado deadpanned at his friend; sometimes he questioned the golden-haired boy’s choice of words—and that was precisely how Masaomi liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interested in checking out my original writing or spying on my two furbabbies antics? You can find us [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> Interested in checking out my original writing or spying on my two furbabbies antics? You can find us [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!


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